Into the Riptide
by Ocenandebo
Summary: Dwell into the life of 13 year old Hudson, a boy born and raised in Aryia, a high crime city full of bums, villians, and homeless. http:/disboard discord for the rp itself here!


"Get back here you fucking crook!"

What a lovely way to start his morning. Hudson groaned as he brushed a layer of snow off of himself. It was a dull gray, stained with dirt and grime. If it was white, he might as well think he was still asleep, loligagging in a dream.

Rubbing his eyes, he could see some kid, probably 9 or 8, running with what looked like a bag of apples and a loaf of bread. He didn't get far, as some sort of portal opened up and sucked him inside of it. The shopowner could only continue his cursing, retreating to his shop before it was robbed again while he was exploring for this apple thief. The boy's yellow gaze dully followed the whole scene, before he groaned and got to his feet.

Hudson slid his backpack over his shoulders, rolling up the blanket he had found and securing it on the side. He was about 12 or 13, not that he remembered or kept count anymore. Birthdays were some silly fairytale that he never heard of outside of school, and he never had one before, so it felt more like a myth then something that actually happened. His head was covered with curly, filthy dirty blonde hair, and it nearly covered his eyes everytime he started to walk unless he pushed it back, but even then it refused to stay. The boy was literal skin and bones, scrawny like a street cat, and just as beat up and scarred as one. Distinct acid burn scars destroyed half of his face and scattered across his neck and skin, making the expression on that half dull and unamused. There was various scars, plenty of scabs, and a layer of dirt covering his slightly tanned skin.

Wobbling on his feet and nearly toppling over, he avoided an ignorant pedestrian who simply tried to just barrel the kid out of his way by hopping to the side and pinning himself against the wall. Afterwards, he made sure to look both ways before merging onto the traffic of the streets.

Aryia wasn't a place of pretty homes, or even many houses at all. Those that did stand were slums, little shacks that had been destroyed or raided many times over and over. Only those with good money or power actually lived under a roof. Most were homeless, living with gangs or under villain groups until they could leave or rise up in power.

Clearly, he wasn't one of them. Hudson idly walked down the road, feeling the ice melt off his heated skin. He was likely in one of the gang's territories, not that he was too worried. He wasn't friends with anyone but a handful of people here and there, but he could hold up in a fight for a bit until reinforcements from the other side caused him to run. Turning down an alley, he decided to spend this day off from foraging for food, and instead, some time for himself. As he walked, he scanned the ground for any smooth stones, adjusting his hair so it covered the ruined side of his face. As soon as he found a handful, he sped up, hearing shouting somewhere behind him.

The water here wasn't much of a sight, more like a dried up pond filled with oils and garbage from some factories or wasteful people. He certainly wasn't going to swim in in- hell, he wasn't going to walk around with oil all over him, but these rocks would give some entertainment for now. He sat down on the bank, swinging his arm back and watching them fly over the surface. It disturbed the bubbles and inky color, mixing it around before it sunk with a small plink. Noise, metal banging and gunshots echoed in the distance, but Hudson was tired. He was feeling sick, and he just wanted a bit of a break from all the chaos right now. Eventually, he just laid on his side, gazing over the surface and lying still and pretending he was a statue. Didn't they have statues outside of Aryia? It seemed silly and pointless to him, why would they want to remember anyone? Sometimes, Hudson just wanted to forget.

Flopping onto his back, he stared at the sky, the stars and colors and anything up there blocked out by a cold glaze that left the light only seeping through dimmly, like eternal darkness. He remembered the sky back at school, when he went. Everyone's bright faces, and the way they didn't look.. Like him. He didn't feel like going back, and he didn't belong there. The teachers were sick of him, anyway, and his parents didn't show up for any meetings or to pay for any supplies and such. He was often left just loaning stuff out, wearing whatever free clothes the office had for those out of dress code, and it seperated him from the others. If he went back, would it be any better than here? Laughing faces, pointing fingers, always taking the blame…

Maybe. But he didn't know now. He gave a yawn, stretching his arms over his head and rolled back in the gravel. It felt nice for a few moments, before a sharp piece jabbed a wound in his shoulder and caused him to give a sharp yelp before rolling over and quickly hopping to a kneel.

As he snapped back into reality, he could hear the noise growing closer, and glanced back to see what looked like a pissed off mob in the distance. Was it one of the groups, hunting for someone to just tear apart for their amusement? That's what it seemed like, and he wasn't willing to stick around and wait. If he ran, there'd be someone who could catch him. So, his best option was to hide, since he was already outnumbered.

Throwing his bag under a piece of scrap cardboard, he dove headfirst into the inky black pond. It was ice cold, bitter against his skin and burning into his wounds. The rippling eventually mellowed out, and he had to simply hold his breath and try to wait under for as long as it would take.

The noise above grew closer, and remained loud shouting for a while before abrubtly going silent. Hudson, at that point, literally couldn't breathe and was forced to cautiously go up for a breath below a heap of garbage. They.. they seemed to be gone? Carefully, and ever so slowly, he moved the garbage from over his head…

ZIP!

A rope or some plastic, he wasn't sure, snapped around his throat. Hudson ripped at it with his slimy hands, his hair plastering over his face as he gagged for air before being dragged quite literally to the shore. His head bobbed in and out of the water, the taste of filth splashing in and out of his mouth and the oil coating his face and burning his eyes. The feeling of rocks slammed against his back as he hit the shore didn't slow his frantic clawing, until the rope had loosened to allow some breathing.

"Told you there was a little bastard in there!"

"Shut up, Jared!"

Something slammed bluntly into his side, and Hudson curled up in a fatal position, before he was dragged over the gravel and away from the water. "Let me go!" He screeched, trying to rip the cord out and over his head. Flames burst out from his body, as he felt the plastic melt off and he quickly scrambled back and to his feet. His yellow eyes were frantic- There was at least 12 of them, and only one of him! About half ot them suddenly drew weapons, and started to fire at his chest and legs just as Hudson forced an ice barrier up to force them back and to make some space between them. He turned back to run to his bag, scooping it up out of the hiding spot with a hand all while firing more ice shields to cover him as he ran.

He wasn't fast enough, and his bare feet hit the glass and dirt below him roughly, while the mob sped up on him. Glancing around, he seemed to be making his way back into more buildings and garbage, and less open gravel-lands. This was his best bet- and if he didn't get himself dried off, he could freeze to death out here. With another blast of ice to slow them down, he decided to climb up a few broken windows, glancing around for something to hide in before glancing up to see a mismatched array of broken, whole, and gapped ceiling tiles. There was some air ducts, right? His eyes turned to the air vents, he'd be small enough to fit in. there. He flung his bag out the window, before quickly climbing up, breaking into the vent and securing himself inside.

They passed through the building briefly, but his bag distracted them enough. As they walked past, they'd throw stuff at each other, fool around, and fling anything they found before deciding the building was clear and moving on. When it had been hours, and the temperature had dropped significantly, Hudson needed to get out of there and deemed it safe enough. He wasn't going to make another foolish mistake like he did before.

As he climbed down the building, he could see a lingering fire.. Crap! That was his bag! Some ice put it out, but it was covered in flammables, and everything was destroyed. He'd… he'd just found that damn blanket too. Picking up the ashy remains, which crumbled and folded over in his hands, he could feel tears boiling up. He gave a bone-rattling cough, then wheezing, as he glanced up to the setting sky and decided to make a retreat and possibly find a warmer place tonight. His quirk sure as hell helped, but it was exhausting to use all night sometimes, and drew too much attention. He'd just have to suck it up.. And behind this dumpster seemed warm enough, right? It was empty, and he'd be alright… yeah… he'd be just fine.


End file.
